How long it seems

Since that time on the beach.

When the waves were soft whispers.

And dipping out of the sky

The sun; distantly warm

No longer a ball of fire.

Sank into the sea.


Though many moons have passed

And tides turned.

My thoughts flow back

Caught in the current of memory.

To soft whispers.

And the glory of a setting sun.


By Fiona Lochhead      Feb 2012